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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23259208">Banished</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda'>LadyGlinda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pandemic Drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, COVID-19, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Quarantine, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock is a Sex God, Sibling Incest, holmescest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:02:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23259208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When John has to go into quarantine because of a scary new virus, Sherlock has a good excuse to stay with his brother, his secret lover.<br/>Basically short glimpses at the time they are spending with each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pandemic Drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Banished</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/gifts">SlytherinsDragon</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MezzaMorta/gifts">MezzaMorta</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/gifts">sherlock221Bismymuse</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakiNokatomo/gifts">TakiNokatomo</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fat_Yoga_Cat/gifts">Fat_Yoga_Cat</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsa9/gifts">Elsa9</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbiedoll/gifts">barbiedoll</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/annyesha_1992/gifts">annyesha_1992</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/duneline/gifts">duneline</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Such a story is inevitable, isn't it? Just my way of dealing with this scary threat, and I hope it will, despite some angst, make you smile in these horrible times! Be safe, all of you, my Holmescest family!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 1</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">Sherlock snorted at his phone. “Yeah. And you always thought working cases was dangerous…”</p><p class="western">“<em>I know. I’m so sorry. But it’s better if you don’t come back to Baker Street.”</em></p><p class="western">“Getting thrown out of my own flat by my own flatmate. It is unheard of.” It was so much fun to wind John up, who had moved back in with him a year ago – with his daughter, of course.</p><p class="western">“<em>I’ll pay for your hotel room.”</em> John sounded devastated. <em>“I would go there myself but they said…”</em></p><p class="western">“Never mind. No hotel for me.”</p><p class="western">“<em>You could ask Molly if…”</em></p><p class="western">“No, no.” Sherlock shuddered. “I’ll go to my brother.”</p><p class="western">There was silence on the other end for a moment. <em>“Mycroft?”</em></p><p class="western">Sherlock sighed. “There are no more secret siblings, he promised.” And that should better be the truth or someone would pay for it… In all probability on his knees. “Of course I mean Mycroft. He isn’t at home all day anyway. He can bear me under his roof.”</p><p class="western">“<em>He’ll drop dead if you tell him.”</em></p><p class="western">“Nah. He’ll live. Don’t fret your little head, John. I’ll be fine. So will you, I hope.”</p><p class="western">“<em>I’m sure I will, and so will Rosie. Thank God you weren’t at home for the past week. In two weeks you can return, I hope.”</em></p><p class="western">Sherlock was pretty convinced that he would be in no hurry. He gave John a few cheerful words and then he let his brother know that he would have a house guest for at least two weeks.</p><p class="western">
  <em>Help me! MH</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Very funny. SH</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>It will be my pleasure. MH</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Yes, it will. SH</em>
</p><p class="western">*****</p><p class="western">“Good evening, little brother. Who would have thought you would haunt me so soon after this case?” Mycroft loosened his tie. He had already gotten rid of his coat and his umbrella.</p><p class="western">They had been spending the past seven days working on a case together, in a secluded little town in North London, seeking out terrorists. Their mission had been successful, Mycroft had done legwork despite hating it, and there had been no COVID-19 cases up there. They had returned to madness now.</p><p class="western">“At least I’m not dangerous,” Sherlock said. He was sitting in Mycroft's favourite armchair with his long legs crossed.</p><p class="western">“Being around you is always dangerous,” Mycroft retorted and poured himself a glass of whiskey.</p><p class="western">“Point made. I could have gone to Molly’s instead…”</p><p class="western">Mycroft chuckled into his glass. “Yes. You could have told each other that you love one another for two weeks then…”</p><p class="western">“You are decidedly mean.”</p><p class="western">“I am,” Mycroft nodded. “Care for a drink?”</p><p class="western">“Thanks. I’d rather have a kiss.”</p><p class="western">“Oh, my bad.” Mycroft bent down to him but Sherlock held him back by grabbing his shoulders.</p><p class="western">“Wait… You didn’t kiss Lady Smallwood earlier, did you?”</p><p class="western">“Brat.”</p><p class="western">Chuckling, Sherlock slung his arms around his brother’s neck and plundered his mouth.</p><p class="western">*****</p><p class="western">“So… not sleeping in the guest room then, hm?” Delicate eyebrows were raised at Sherlock.</p><p class="western">“Very funny. And that’s <em>my</em> side of the bed.”</p><p class="western">“Well, actually, it’s mine.”</p><p class="western">“Not anymore, Mycroft.”</p><p class="western">A long-suffering sigh was his reward. “It’s only the first night and you are already so <em>demanding</em>.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock snorted. “I haven’t even <em>started</em> to demand anything, brother.”</p><p class="western">“Dear me.”</p><p class="western">“Shut up and kiss me.”</p><p class="western">“Your politeness is overwhelm… Hmpf!”</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 2</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Must you wake me up?”</p><p class="western">“Did you say anything, darling? Or did you just try to eat your pillow?”</p><p class="western">“Not funny! It’s not even day!”</p><p class="western">“Well, it might shock you, but some of us still have to go to work to keep the world from falling apart at the seams in these dire times.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock turned around and huffed. “You sound more dramatic than Lady Bracknell!”</p><p class="western">Mycroft smiled down on him. He had already showered and shaved and had returned to the bedroom to put on his uniform – a three-piece-suit that probably cost more than Sherlock's entire wardrobe. “And you look extraordinarily cute with your crumpled face and your dishevelled curls.”</p><p class="western">“I am not cute!” Sherlock hissed.</p><p class="western">“I can assure you that you are. Will you do any work at all?”</p><p class="western">“Well, I have no idea if anyone will seek my help, Mycroft. I’d say the chances are quite slim – people don’t tend to go outside these days. And I’m avoiding Bart’s now. They do have cases there, you know? When will you be back?”</p><p class="western">“Late, I’m afraid. Try not to blow up the house, be so kind.”</p><p class="western">“I’d rather blow <em>you</em>…” Sherlock winked at him suggestively.</p><p class="western">“Well, if you had woken up a bit earlier, this would have been an option. Alas…”</p><p class="western">“I hate you.”</p><p class="western">“Love you, too, little brother. Eat something and be nice. I’ll call you.”</p><p class="western">“Hmpf.”</p><p class="western">“A nice day to you as well.” Mycroft blew him a kiss – he abhorred morning breath – and left.</p><p class="western">Sherlock sighed.</p><p class="western">*****</p><p class="western">“Have you even moved?”</p><p class="western">“You left me in the bedroom, moron, and now I’m lying on the couch. So yes, obviously!”</p><p class="western">He was regarded with an indulgent look out of pretty blue eyes. “Ah, poor Lockie. No exciting cases today, hm?”</p><p class="western">“Try no cases at all, Mycroft! Nobody kills anyone anymore! No bank robberies. Not even an escaped pet that has to be found. It is hateful!”</p><p class="western">Mycroft sat down after lifting up his legs and patted his knee. “People being kind to each other in times of crisis. Horrible!”</p><p class="western">“Oh, shut up and put your mouth to better use!” Sherlock unzipped his trousers and something long and pink sprang free.</p><p class="western">“Ah. Work never ceases.” Mycroft bent down and took him into his mouth to the root, and Sherlock’s mood lifted immediately.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 3</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Don’t you dare answer the phone now!”</p><p class="western">“Do shut up, brother, and continue with what you were doing. It’s just John, it’ll take me a minute. Hello, John. How is life in Baker Street today?”</p><p class="western">“<em>Ah, it’s tremendously boring without you. </em><em>I read a lot and do some paperwork, and of course I play with Rosie, </em><em>inside,</em><em> and Mrs Hudson has been teaching me bridge. None of us seems to be ill. </em><em>How are things with Mycroft?”</em></p><p class="western">“Ah, you know. Being at each other’s throat as soon as he comes through the door.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft chuckled wetly against the neck he had just been kissing and sucking. Sherlock grinned and slapped his arse.</p><p class="western">“<em>Damn, yeah, just what I expected.”</em></p><p class="western">Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you know us, John. The bickering Holmes brothers.” He rolled his eyes again, this time in pleasure, when a certain spot behind his earlobe was teased with kittenish licks.</p><p class="western">John laughed. <em>“Yes, bet he has you by the ear whenever you misbehave.”</em></p><p class="western">Sherlock laughed even louder. “Exactly, John. He’s as ghastly as ever. Ouch.”</p><p class="western">“<em>What happened?”</em></p><p class="western"><em>My nose was just pinched rather viciously</em>. “Just stretched my back the wrong way. You know, I’m not going outside very often, either, which means I’m getting all <em>stiff</em>.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft nodded and wrapped his hand around the cock he had worked out of Sherlock's underpants within two seconds.</p><p class="western">It just felt too good. “I’ve got to go, John. Having dinner as long as it is still <em>hot</em> or Mycroft will glare at me.”</p><p class="western">“<em>Oh, we don’t want that. Stay safe.”</em></p><p class="western">“Oh, I’m absolutely safe here. Greetings to Rosie and Mrs H.”</p><p class="western">“<em>Will tell them. Say hello to your brother from me.”</em></p><p class="western">“I will. Bye.”</p><p class="western">“<em>Bye, Sherlock.”</em></p><p class="western">“Hello, Mycroft,” Sherlock said when he had switched off his phone.</p><p class="western">“Bratty brother. What am I going to do with you, hm?”</p><p class="western">“I’d say suck me.”</p><p class="western">“You think you deserve that?”</p><p class="western">Sherlock beamed at him. “No. But you will do it anyway.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft sighed theatrically. “The story of my life.” And with this, he went to town.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 4</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Damn, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you!”</p><p class="western">Mycroft smiled. “You can’t run around in the same suit for two weeks, brother. It was my pleasure.”</p><p class="western">“Actually I’m running around naked almost all the time… because I’m basically always <em> here </em>.”</p><p class="western">“The outfit I prefer, of course. But you might want to go outside – keeping away from people, of course.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock had gone outside a few times but there was not much to do. Parks closed, most shops closed, hardly anyone on the streets… No cases to solve. If it hadn’t been for the internet, he would have gone crazy already. “It is a perfect suit. Shall I put it on for you?”</p><p class="western">“By all means. And then I will take it off again.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock grinned. “Stripping for leering big brother. Pervert!”</p><p class="western">“As if that was something new. All your fault. You are too sexy.”</p><p class="western">“I love you.” Sherlock swallowed after this outburst. It wasn’t the first time that he had said this to Mycroft, of course. But these words weren’t used exactly excessively so they still meant so much.</p><p class="western">And Mycroft shared the sentiment. He blinked rapidly. “I love you, too, little brother. I’m glad you are here with me, safe.”</p><p class="western">“I have never been safer than with you.” The truth, pure and simple. And Sherlock smiled when Mycroft's lips crashed against his, and he thought that he might not get to trying on his beautiful new suit so soon, but that was fine with him.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 5</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">Watching his cock go in- and almost out of Sherlock's arse was his favourite thing to do. Chatting with the Queen was nothing against it.</p><p class="western">Mesmerised, he stared at the stretched skin around his prick, where they were as intimately connected as possible. Sherlock was on all fours, moaning and cursing while he was being taken vigorously, his black curls flying around, his pale globes wobbling most appealingly.</p><p class="western">“Stop staring and get a hand around my cock,” he demanded now, looking over his shoulders with glowering eyes.</p><p class="western">“As you asked so nicely,” Mycroft drawled and shifted his position to be able to grab Sherlock's so far untouched but nonetheless very hard penis, making him spurt all over the towels Mycroft had wisely used to cover his sheets with within seconds.</p><p class="western">The wildly contracting muscles of Sherlock's anal canal made him follow him over the edge mere moments later, and he enjoyed knowing that he was filling his little brother with his seed every bit as much as the physical sensations.</p><p class="western">They collapsed in a heap, Mycroft curling his arms around his baby brother possessively.</p><p class="western">“I liked that,” mumbled Sherlock, and Mycroft grinned.</p><p class="western">“Did you now? I would have never noticed.”</p><p class="western">“Be quiet, you sarcastic twat.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft chuckled against his ear and bit into his earlobe playfully. Sherlock wiggled in his embrace until they could look each other straight in the eyes. The love in Sherlock's blue-greens made his heart almost come to a halt. It would be hard to let him go again.</p><p class="western">“Sappy sod,” Sherlock accused, patting his sides. “I’ll never be far away.”</p><p class="western">“Sentimental little bugger. Stop deducing me.” Mycroft kissed him on the nose.</p><p class="western">“Not my fault that you are so obvious.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft tutted. “Always trying to have the last word, hm?”</p><p class="western">Sherlock gave him a nasty smile. “And I do, because you’re old and slipping.”</p><p class="western">“I’ll give you old! In a minute…”</p><p class="western">A snort was his answer. “As if you could get it up again so soon.”</p><p class="western">“Nuisance.”</p><p class="western">“Borer.”</p><p class="western">Chuckling, the brothers snuggled against each other, drifting off to a well-deserved nap.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 6</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Wow. That smells delicious. Don’t tell me you… cooked?!”</p><p class="western">Sherlock gave him a dirty look. “Yes. I can do that, you know.”</p><p class="western">“So why have you not done it before?”</p><p class="western">“Because I’m not your housewife?”</p><p class="western">Mycroft laughed. “You would look good in an apron, swinging a spoon, or maybe a broom.”</p><p class="western">“Chauvinist!”</p><p class="western">“Feminist!”</p><p class="western">They chuckled together and then Sherlock told Mycroft to sit down in the living room as dinner was as good as ready.</p><p class="western">Mycroft almost choked at the water he had been drinking when Sherlock entered the room with a large tray full of plates and bowls – wearing nothing but a small, red apron and a cheeky smile.</p><p class="western">Sherlock gave him a wink. “No touching now. Just looking and eating.”</p><p class="western">“Will you be my dessert?”</p><p class="western">“All for you to devour.”</p><p class="western">“Good!”</p><p class="western">*****</p><p class="western">When Mycroft had enjoyed his dessert, they were lying next to each other, wrapped in the thick blanket, and Sherlock took his phone to glance at the news.</p><p class="western">“The world has become mad.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft kissed his shoulder. “It has always been mad, little brother.” It was a struggle, every day, trying to keep the mess as small as it could be. It was impossible but he could only do his best. Still more and more people became ill and there were way too few hospital beds and medical equipment for all of them. It was devastating.</p><p class="western">But especially considering these horrible developments, it was tremendously nice to come home to baby brother, knowing the most precious thing in this world was safe.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 7</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Mummy. So nice to hear from you.” Mycroft shot Sherlock, who mimicked having to vomit, a playful glare.</p><p class="western">“<em>How </em> are <em> you boys?” </em> Mummy asked. <em> “It is so </em> horrible <em> .” </em></p><p class="western">“We are coping quite well. Sherlock is a bit upset that he doesn’t get cases though.” Mycroft tried not to moan when a wet stripe was licked across the inside of his thigh. Nasty little bugger!</p><p class="western">“<em>Well, he must learn patience like we all do,”</em> Mummy lectured.</p><p class="western">“I’ll make sure to pass this on,” Mycroft promised her. “He should really grow up.” He hissed when his delicate flesh was bitten none-too-gently.</p><p class="western">“<em>Are you sick?”</em></p><p class="western">“No, Mummy. Just some light inconvenience.” He grabbed a handful of black curls and pulled a sharp-toothed beast off his leg. Sherlock let his abused skin go with a wet plop and a completely remorseless grin. “So how are you and Father?” He closed his eyes while he was listening to a long tirade of cancelled line-dancing appointments, nosy neighbours and the lack of toilet paper in the stores and while a warm, long-limbed body was being pressed flush against his front, rubbing against his growing erection, and long fingers started torturing his nipples.</p><p class="western">When his mother was finished and demanded responses, he was hardly able to articulate a straight sentence. But their parents had never been the most observant of people. They had seen them together since the disaster in Sherrinford several times and never so much as suspected that their relationship had changed tremendously in the aftermath of struggling with the nasty truth about little sister. So Mummy didn’t notice anything – all those years of telling lies to important people paid out now.</p><p class="western">But when he had finally gotten rid of his mother, he grabbed Sherlock's ear and twisted it. “Naughty boy! Making me all hard and horny with Mummy on the phone! You ask for trouble, don’t you?”</p><p class="western">“And you are only realising this now? What are you going to do about it?” Sherlock wasn’t sorry in the least. In fact he looked so smug that it was hard to bear.</p><p class="western">“I’ll show you!” And with this, Mycroft manhandled him over his lap, which made them both groan and hiss when their hard cocks were bent rather painfully, and delivered three stinging blows to a very tempting aim, which reddened delightfully under his ministrations.</p><p class="western">“You beast!” Sherlock complained, trying to break free.</p><p class="western">“That will teach you to leave me alone when I’m on the phone!”</p><p class="western">“Stop rhyming, you poor excuse for a poet!” Sherlock giggled like mad when Mycroft took to tickling him.</p><p class="western">They rolled about and fought until they were both so horny that they could do nothing else than start fucking, which was, discipline-wise, certainly the wrong way to answer Sherlock's naughtiness, but damn – it felt very good.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 8</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Hm… Morning… Why are you still here?” Sherlock turned and looked at him with still sleep-small eyes.</p><p class="western">Mycroft smiled. “I will work from home this morning. And I will as often as I can from now on.” There was no denying it – it was getting worse and worse out there. No need to go out if not strictly necessary.</p><p class="western">Sherlock beamed at him. “Fantastic!”</p><p class="western">“That doesn’t mean that we can have sex all day now,” Mycroft made clear. “I will still have to do my job.”</p><p class="western">“I know. But can we have sex <em> now </em>?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, we can. Go and brush your teeth first.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock was on his feet already. “Showering too! Don’t run away!”</p><p class="western">Mycroft smiled.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 9</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Hey… You okay?” Mycroft had curled his arms around a slim waist. Sherlock had allowed it but he looked upset.</p><p class="western">“Was that necessary? This meeting?”</p><p class="western"><em> Oh. </em> “I’m afraid it was. But we kept a distance to each other. Anthea placed us across the room, far away from each other.” They had needed to speak very loudly to make everyone understand. The ambassador of Greece was a bit deaf.</p><p class="western">“Hm.” Sherlock didn’t look convinced. “Did you wash your hands afterwards?”</p><p class="western"><em> He is worried… </em>“I did,” he assured his brother. “What did you do today?” Poor little brother. Bored out of his mind, in all probability.</p><p class="western">“Solved a case for Lestrade. He sent me the file and the video of the crime scene. Worked fine.”</p><p class="western">“Oh, that’s good.”</p><p class="western">“Yes. Made a conference call with John. He said he might have a client for me; we can try to do this the same way.”</p><p class="western">“Very good. I like my darling to be occupied. But don’t send each other dick pics.”</p><p class="western">This had the intended effect of making Sherlock laugh. “Silly brother. You know, John’s dick is so small that I would have to zoom it in to even see that there is something.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft grinned. “Always the size queen. But wait a minute – how do you know?”</p><p class="western">“We’ve been living together, man. It is inevitable.”</p><p class="western">“That means he has seen your cock, too?” He didn’t like this. At all.</p><p class="western">Sherlock sighed but he could see that his brother was not annoyed, rather flattered. “He doesn’t care about my cock, Mycroft. He might be impressed of its size but he would never say so. And he definitely doesn’t want to touch. And I wouldn’t let him anyway!”</p><p class="western">“Hm. I don’t like you flaunting your assets.”</p><p class="western">“I do not. And my assets are all yours. You could have them right now.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft nodded. And then he picked his brother up, bridal style. He was hungry, but somehow this was more important now. “Off we go.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock giggled and protested about being too heavy, but Mycroft carried him upstairs and all the way to the bedroom, and then he claimed what was his.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 10</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Everything gets closed now,” Sherlock mumbled, his head resting against Mycroft's chest.</p><p class="western">“It was about time. Poor you – you can’t go to the pub anymore.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock snorted. “Never thought I was in love with a clown.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft had his arms wrapped firmly around him. He would never get tired of his brother casually saying things like this – and in this rather indirect way, it was easier for him, probably. “Are you now?”</p><p class="western">“Hm?”</p><p class="western">“In love with me?”</p><p class="western">Sherlock pinched his thigh. “As if you had to ask.”</p><p class="western">And wasn’t it still like a miracle to him? He had expected Sherlock to hate him for not telling him about their sister for three decades. Instead they had started to talk, finally. After all those years of resentments and hostility, they had sat down and talked when the hassle of Sherrinford had been dealt with. Over the next few weeks, they had discovered that they actually did have a lot in common. And that they were feeling increasingly well around each other. And eventually, fingers had entwined, deep looks had been exchanged, and one night in Mycroft's house, the air had crackled so hard that it had ended in wild kisses and clumsy groping and from this point on, a trustful and committed relationship had developed. Under the eyes of Sherlock's friends and their parents, all oblivious like the goldfish always were. And this crisis had brought them even closer together, Mycroft mused. He dreaded the day when Sherlock would return to Baker Street.</p><p class="western">“I can’t read when you think so loudly.”</p><p class="western">“Apologies, little brother. What if we kissed instead?” The bad news wouldn’t go away in the meantime… And if they did, even better...</p><p class="western">“A very good idea.” Sherlock flung his phone onto the bed stand.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 11</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“You like that?” panted Sherlock.</p><p class="western">“God, fuck me harder, Lock.”</p><p class="western">“Damn, you talking dirty. The world will end.” But Sherlock complied, of course. If there was something hotter and more arousing than pounding big brother’s pert little arse, he had not discovered it.</p><p class="western">Mycroft's impossibly long legs were draped over his shoulders while he was thrusting into him with deep strokes, his eyes always on Mycroft's face to not miss any sign of inconvenience. There was none. All he could see was bliss, trust and an Iceman as hot as they got. Flushed cheeks, cowslick curling on his forehead, Mycroft looked positively dishevelled and simply ravishing.</p><p class="western">They were quickly approaching completion, and Sherlock dreaded it. Why could they not just go on for five hours? Yes, they would be sore. Even more than they already were after all those days of excessive sexual activity but he still craved it.</p><p class="western">The world outside had become a hostile, scary place. Sherlock knew it had always been but he had felt aloof and he had not really been touched by it. People’s pain had been unimportant to him if there hadn’t been a case to solve. Loving someone with so much force had changed him – much more than his friendship with John ever had. He did worry about his friend and little Rosie and poor old Mrs Hudson (even though all of them seemed to be fine) but knowing that Mycroft still had to go out there for meeting stupid imbeciles who couldn’t bind their shoes alone, exposing himself to an enemy nobody was able to see or fight, made him feel vulnerable and helpless. He tried not to show it but Mycroft had made concessions to his fears as of course he had not missed them.</p><p class="western">But Sherlock wished he could have gone on like this, knowing his brother to be safe in his arms or speared on his cock as he was now, never to let him go again, and if this was sappy and sentimental, he didn’t give a damn.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 12</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">“Working on your blog?”</p><p class="western">“Yeah. Time to catch up on a few things the world needs to know.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft smiled and rubbed his face against Sherlock's shoulder. “Yes. Soon this insanity will be only a distant memory and then people will depend on your wisdom again.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him. “Mocking me won’t get you into my pants.”</p><p class="western">“Please. They are practically melting away as soon as I enter the room. I wonder why you still bother wearing them at all.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock laughed. “Mean brother. It was too cold to not wear anything.” He had put on a shirt and comfortable pants.</p><p class="western">“I wish I could keep you like this. My kept man, lounging about in a dressing gown with your hair constantly messed up by my fingers. I would come home after work and sit in my chair and you would be kneeling between my legs and make me relax.”</p><p class="western">“That’s basically exactly what’s been happening for almost two weeks. Except that you shower before I do this…” He sounded a little melancholic. Two more days. John didn’t have any symptoms, and neither did Rosie and Mrs Hudson. The town was mostly locked down now but there would be no excuse to stay with Mycroft any longer.</p><p class="western">Sometimes… Sometimes Mycroft wished they could start over new, where nobody knew them. But it was only a nice dream. Their roots were here. Sherlock's friends were here. What defined them was here – their work. And they would be fine with going on deceiving everybody. But still. It would be hard to let his brother go again.</p><p class="western">“Forget about the blog.” Sherlock put his laptop away. “We have more important things to do.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft could only agree.</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 13</b></span>
</p><p class="western">“Yes, John. If nothing unforeseen happens, I’ll be back tomorrow. I bet you made a huge mess… Yeah. It was a joke! Hm? Ah, you know my brother. He lives for neatness. Always cleaning up behind me. I can’t even let my cigarettes fall anywhere.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft was lying on his back, grinning. It had been working surprisingly well – the Holmes brothers under one roof. Sherlock was not nearly as chaotic as he had imagined. Or perhaps he had just behaved around him.</p><p class="western">While Sherlock was still talking to his flatmate, Mycroft's hands drew random patterns on his brother’s naked back. He couldn’t help but kiss his neck, curling an arm around his waist.</p><p class="western">Would he run into danger again when John was at his side again? Probably not so soon. Even the murderers stayed at home these days, fearing the virus. But soon Sherlock's services would be sought after again. And it had to be like this. It was a miracle that Sherlock had not run amok, having so little to do during the day. In fact, he seemed to be rather content with busying himself with chores (gasp!) and doing stuff online. He had calmed down. Well, he didn’t get younger, either. And these times had probably shown them all what really counted.</p><p class="western">When Sherlock had hung up, he turned to him, his eyes heavy with sentiment. “I love you, Mycroft.”</p><p class="western">“Love you, too, little brother. Do you want to have sex?”</p><p class="western">“Just cuddle for a while if you don’t mind.”</p><p class="western">Mycroft smiled. “Not at all.”</p><p class="western">“And then sex.”</p><p class="western">“Of course.”</p><p class="western">
  <span class="u"> <b>Day 14</b> </span>
</p><p class="western">Mycroft hung up his coat. He had just returned from an early meeting with the PM and a few other ‘important’ people. “Sherlock… I… I don’t know how to tell you this…”</p><p class="western">“What?” Sherlock’s face was a mask of worry.</p><p class="western">“The PM. He… had contact with someone who was tested positive. He shows no symptoms but he has to go into quarantine, and they think it is safe for everybody who had contact with him to do the same. And since you’ve been living with me… I’m afraid you’ll have to stay with me for two more weeks.”</p><p class="western">Sherlock gaped at him, and then his eyes lit up. “Really?!”</p><p class="western">Mycroft felt his heart make a little jump. “Really. Call John and tell him you’re not coming home so soon.”</p><p class="western">The next moment he had an armful of baby brother. They kissed passionately, and then Sherlock pulled back with narrowed eyes. “And when these two weeks are over… perhaps I will have had contact with someone who could be ill.”</p><p class="western">“Hm. In these times, everything is possible.”</p><p class="western">They shared a big smile and then Sherlock took his hand and dragged him upstairs, and Mycroft followed eagerly.</p><p class="western">The End</p>
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